It doesn't quite sit right, her reaction, but it's easy enough to attribute it to grief-- just like she wants.

And even now, after all the time spent-- well, they don't talk a lot about the people they've lost. You can't, because grief drags you back when you've got to keep walking. So he's not gonna dig, even if-- if, if what?

She'd say something, wouldn't she? If she knew. (He should say something. For a moment he entertains the thought, trying to come up with something-- some word or reference that wouldn't need explanation if it went overhead-- it's so ridiculous that he cuts that line of thought off before he comes up with anything at all.)

"After that," he says quietly, low and gravelly. He doesn't much want to share the details.